Tiredness
by ArcherHana
Summary: They are both tired, so tired...


**_Tiredness_**

* * *

Liz heard the door opening with a bit more force than necessary and heard him almost stumbling in.

She glanced up from her laptop and watched as he wobbled towards her and flopped down beside her. Before she could lay the laptop aside, hands reached out, carefully raised the laptop and deposited it on the small table in front of her.

He then almost crashed down on her, his head resting on her laps – still warm from the air escaping from the inside of her laptop. She wasn't fast enough to stop his legs from plopping down on the papers strewn across the bank. Some of it drizzled to the ground, others would very likely show creases. She would need to walk to the printer once more – at least one more time, perhaps even more.

He sighed deeply – groaned almost – closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he sighed again, this time a bit more content.

"Talk."

"Hmm?" She tried to decipher the tiny words on the bright screen.

"Talk. I've had a very dreadful meeting, and am in need of some soothing." She rolled her eyes and wanted to reach for her laptop again. She was a bit behind in paperwork, and this wasn't a good enough reason to prolong the work even more.

A hand reached out and latched on her wrist. She glanced down and saw him staring straight at her.

She sighed as her arm grew limp.

"What do you want to discuss?"

"No, not discuss, just talk. About anything." She remained skeptical. With him, there was always something more. Not even merely touching the surface, a deeper issue usually was at work here.

"Please." He had closed his eyes again, and half groaned out the plead.

She sighed and glanced ahead. She decided to talk about the one thing she was comfortable with. Besides, the sooner she could shake him out of this slightly eccentric behavior, the sooner she could fill out her reports, and the sooner she was to a proper rest.

"I'm in the middle of a report – before you so rudely disturbed my meticulous system-"

"You mean your chaotic piles." She glared a bit at him, but his eyes were still closed.

"It's a tedious job, but I'm already behind, so I might as well begin before it gets even more tiring."

"Have you already dined?"

"I thought you wanted me to talk nonsense to you."

"Nothing you say is nonsense, sweetheart." This made her pause. There he was again, playing with her, being so contradicting. One moment, he could be so fatherly, tenderly even to her, the next sensual, attracting her, luring her to his waiting arms – talking to her as if they were lovers.

Or perhaps this was her mind just playing games with her. Her overimagination filled in the many holes he left. Her relation with her husband hadn't been so well in a while after all, hence her staying at a place he had chosen for her, and he stopping by as much as he could, lingering perhaps even longer. Sometimes he would even remain for the night, with Dembe faithfully standing guard at a strategic point, him taking the couch, leaving the bed for her. Despite everything, he always remained chivalrous to her, that never changed. One of the few things that didn't.

Just as the fact he always ensnared her, drew her in, no matter how many times she said no, and said to herself she shouldn't interact with him anymore, even if the price would be very high in return – more terrorism, more corruption, more wounded, more dead.

Her gaze focused as she felt a hand resting on one of hers, guiding it towards his cheek. She let him. For now. Fighting against him would likely be very tiring, and she had been filling in paperwork for a few hours without any pause – not allowing herself one until she was finished, telling herself again and again she must _earn _a pause. So far, she felt she hadn't.

"Your hands are slightly cold. How long have you been working, Lizzy?"

"I have no idea." The words came out too fast. She focused again on the words waiting for her to fill in.

"That's settled then." He raised his upper body very quickly, tipped the momentum, laying her aside as he guided her head to his neck.

"No, wait-" He rested his hands against her shoulders, preventing any movements that didn't suit him.

She glared at him, but he only smiled that special smile. That smile she noticed he only used with her. She sighed. It was pleasant. Her neck had been pinching her. She had experienced several times her eyes reading the same line again and again. And even then the words didn't settle in her brains. Very frustrating.

She glanced at the ceiling, ignoring his searching stare. He did that sometimes – sometimes when she didn't look, sometimes when she did notice it. As if he always needed to check for himself whether she was truly here, and checking for any kinds of injury, whether physical or mental. A very strange person he could be. And very mysterious too. He rarely explained himself. She had asked him a few times but every time he eluded the question, or slided the conversation to another topic. A very clever man indeed.

But practical matters won over anything else. It came with the job description. "I still need to start making dinner."

"No, I'll let something be delivered here."

"Please not another overpaid dinner, with too much dishes." She still remembered the last time he had ordered take out. Of very good quality – she had no idea where he had bought it, no name was written on the bag, or in the dishes, or engraved on the cutlery – and always far too much. Enough for four people, perhaps even more. And his loyal friend never dined with them, even when she sometimes insisted that he should ask him too. She felt bad letting someone standing outside, being on guard while they were filling their stomache. But he always waved it away, always some kind of excuse ready.

"I'll not lower myself to the over-the-Chinese-counter standard – no offense to the Asians, of course." She knew that. Of course she knew, he made sure of that. She knew about the relationship he had with an Asian looking woman. A relationship that ended far too soon for her taste, and likely for his too.

"Hey. There's nothing wrong with the Chinese – or any Asian – kitchen."

"Of course not." He showed that kind of smile again to her. The kind of smile that made her all warm and fuzzy and safe. The kind that made her want to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his shoulder. The kind that made her want to close her eyes, and just knowing that the nightmares wouldn't return, for there was someone there watching over her, always.

"How about this then? Let me cook for you." This was the first time he had mentioned this. He never cooked for her. She didn't even know he could cook. But it would make sense this man could do so many things, so why not cooking too? He spoke several languages fluently, he knew everything about guns, first aid, he had a blacklist, of course he could also cook. A trivial matter likely to him.

"There's nothing usable in the fridge."

"No matter, I'll call Dembe to do some groceries."

"You're lazy." He raised his eyebrows, his eyes all saying that the reversed situation could also be said. Well, she had an excuse for lazing a bit around, for a few more minutes. But not him… Well, that was likely a lie too. While she was safely in this house – that he had likely bought or rented for her – reading line after line, pounding in word after word, he had been out there, in the dangerous, outside world, doing shady business, making very intricate deals, going from country to country efficiently. He likely had more reasons to laze around than her.

"Dembe wouldn't mind."

"But that's the issue. He doesn't mind _anything_!" She didn't mean for this to be said, but she had the impression the man would do anything for his superior, his boss, his friend. It was slightly disturbing for her.

"So, case closed then." Her head noticed his thighs tensing. She blocked him by laying more forcefully on him. She ignored the his stare.

"I'll buy." Well, not the perfect solution, but it just didn't sit well to use him for such trivial matters. Dembe deserved some rest and relaxation too. Though she didn't make any move to stand herself.

He sighed and relaxed. "Very well, then. I'll make the abhorrent deal and call for the orders, all right? Where have you put their phone number?" She had won. She had actually won. She knew how he hated the telephone, or any kind of communication that didn't require the persons to communicate face-to-face. It must be truly a dreadful, tiring day for him to relent so easily. It made her feel guilty again. She back-peddled immediately.

"No, it's all right. Let me put on my shoes and I'll be on my way." But arms blocked any attempts at standing up.

"No, it's fine, Lizzy-"

"But-"

"One phone call wouldn't result in me dying."

"What's the catch?" He never did anything for free, she had learned that the hard way. He chuckled, she could almost feel, _hear_ him saying 'that's my girl'. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"What I want you to do, is just laying here, and wait for the food to arrive. Then join me for dinner, and likely bore me to death by telling how you've spend your day home."

This time, she rolled her eyes. He chuckled, and his eyes shined from happiness for a moment.

He gently righted her body, grabbed and neatened a pillow and laid her head gently on the fluffiness. He was about to sort out the papers spread around them, but glanced at her. She only shook her head. "No system."

She could feel his smug, victorious grin before he piled them all up and laid them near the laptop.

She watched him move towards the telephone, and tried to remain awake. Everything felt so right again, now. She felt completely safe and content. Not only because of someone always waiting outside, always looking out for the two of them, but just…him. Just him being here, even if she only saw his back for now.

She closed her eyes. Yes, everything was all right again – she was all rested and ready for the next day.


End file.
